Taken
by 3rdgymbros
Summary: In which Caitlin, not Iris, is kidnapped by Tony Woodward.
1. Caitlin Has A Moment

**A/N:** Say hello to another SnowBarry story! So. I was rewatching episode six of season one, and I couldn't help but wonder how different things would have been if Caitlin had been kidnapped instead of Iris. This is basically a re-imagining of that episode ( AKA the one with Tony Woodwork ), with our favorite pairing: SnowBarry! *jazz hands* Reviews, favorites and follows are appreciated!

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It's Caitlin who finds him first.

Barry is sprawled out on the floor, barely moving, barely breathing. With a cry, Caitlin kneels by him, gathering his weak frame in his arms. With unsteady hands, she pushes his mask back and sucks in a breath at the mottled purple and black of his skin. She remembers learning that mice and birds have such high heart rates that their pulses sound like humming. She's never thought that her own heart could take off at a pace that might rival theirs.

With his lips pressed against her ear, he says as loud as he can, "Bad man. _Bad."_ Barry trembles in her arms, barely conscious. "Hard skin." He smells like the wind and sugar and summer nights. "Hurts." Barry whimpers, the sound chipping at her already fragile composure.

Caitlin shushes Barry, rocking him in her arms. She doesn't know who the 'bad man' is, but caring for Barry is her current priority. "It's okay. It's okay, he can't hurt you here. I'm going to move you now, okay, Barry?" She wonders if she is strong enough to make it more than a few steps carrying him.

Her only reply is another whimper of pain. Gritting her teeth, Caitlin puts her hands under Barry's arms, and whispers a quick prayer that she won't hurt him more than necessary. She hefts his upper body against her chest, dragging his weak legs out of the room and towards the hallway. Assurances, pleas, nonsense words all cross her lips as she drags Barry's limp frame onto the hospital bed reserved for him.

Caitlin is freshening the water pitcher and finishing up the last touches to Barry's brace when he finally stirs with a moan of pain that jars her back to reality.

"Welcome back," She says briskly, her hands fluttering over the plastic and metal structure attached to his injured hand.

She touches her fingertips to her temples, inhales deeply and looks down at Barry. He is still out of it, emerald irises shadowed with pain. She wishes she could give him Tylenol, but he would burn through the medicine just as quickly as he runs, rendering it useless. Compassion floods her when Barry hisses out a breath taut with agony; she _hates_ seeing him in pain, knowing that she can't provide much relief. Some doctor she is. She's pressed cold packs to the worst bruises along his ribs and sternum, but it's obvious they aren't doing any good, and Caitlin eases out a breath of frustration through clenched teeth.

"Thirteen fractures. That's a new record." She tries to keep her voice light and soothing, deciding that the inevitable scolding can wait until he's all healed up. "That's just in your _hand_. You also have cracked ribs and a bruised spleen."

Hesitantly, she reaches out and threads her fingers through his hair, noticing the quick glide of brown over her fingers and how soft the strands are. "Even with your powers, you'll need a few hours to heal."

He nods sleepily, leaning into her touch with a sigh. _It must be the concussion,_ Caitlin thinks, smoothing back disheveled strands of hair with a swipe of her palm.

" _What_ did you run into?" Dr. Well's voice marches ahead of him into the room.

Caitlin jumps back from Barry, as though she's been caught doing something terribly naughty. Busying herself with the X-Rays, she deliberately avoids looking at anyone, trying to cool her burning cheeks. No one seems to have noticed their oddly intimate gesture; all eyes are locked on Barry, including Cisco's, whom she knows would have ratted her out if he'd gotten so much as a glimpse of what they were up to.

She chances a peek through the fall of russet curls that she uses to hide her face from the world. Cisco is hovering in the corner, hands stuffed in his pockets. Dr. Wells' brow is furrowed, frown parentheses bracketing his mouth and eyes. And Barry – Barry is staring at her, visibly confused as to why she's suddenly taken off, his brows pulled downwards, making her feel as though she's just kicked a puppy. Caitlin moves over, tucking a fresh pillow beneath his lax and fragile head.

"A man. A big, _bad_ man." The childish pout in his voice makes the corners of Caitlin's mouth twitch as she tries not to burst out laughing. "His skin changed when I hit 'im. _Like_ , it turned to metal."

"Interesting," Dr. Wells hums, already deep in thought. "A man of steel."

 _I'm going to scrap that tin man,_ Caitlin thinks, with a ferocity that surprises even her. And then Cisco puts into words the sneaking suspicion that has been niggling at her. "Wait. You went after a meta-human, _alone?_ Dude, why didn't you call us?"

The accusation in Cisco's voice is as plain as day, and Barry struggles to raise his body higher on the pillows, closing his eyes on a pained exhalation. "I didn't know what he was. 'Sides, I was . . . Off duty."

Caitlin leans over him and adds muscle to his efforts until Barry nods. She makes sure to stare directly at him, telling Barry with her widened eyes that she knows exactly what he was up to when he happened to be _'off-duty'._ "Hmph."

"You're lucky he didn't knock out your teeth. Those puppies don't grow back." Cisco comments with a nod of his head, accepting Barry's explanation with nary another word.

Barry opens his eyes, looking faintly puzzled. "The strange thing is . . . I feel like I know him."

"What do you mean?" Dr. Wells' eyes narrow even further, until they are thin, angry slits.

"He said something that was . . . Familiar." Barry shakes off the fog clinging to his brain, and addresses everyone in the room. "But he's going to hurt someone if we don't stop him, so how do I fight someone made of steel?"

" _We_ will find a way. Tonight," Dr. Wells jabs a finger at Barry. The emphasis is made on the word _'we'_ in a tone that brooks no arguments. " _You_ heal."

"Yeah." Barry settles back on his pillows and drifts off.

Dr. Wells and Cisco leave the room together, their heads bent together as they discuss possible strategies for dealing with the Tin Man. Caitlin lingers by Barry's side for a minute more, using her finger to check his pulse. She feels it flutter against her finger like a humming bird hovering at the base of his throat. Caitlin smiles in relief, pausing to brush aside an errant piece of hair from Barry's forehead, which is unlined and smooth, his eyelashes fluttering as he dreams. She tip-toes away, her heart as light as a feather.


	2. Caitlin Does Not Approve

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! It's so lovely to read all your kind comments about this chapter! The story should be about five chapters or so, maybe even seven if I want to drag it out. It's heartening to know that I'm not the only one who sees the chemistry ( or sexual tension ) between Barry and Caitlin! As usual, reviews, subscriptions and favorites are appreciated!

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After popping more ice-packs in the refrigerator and resupplying the bandages and braces in the medicine cabinets, Caitlin's muscles are tired, but her mind is still going full-speed with questions. She is sipping her first cup of coffee of the morning and nibbling on a blueberry muffin when Barry races into the lab, sending papers scattering everywhere. Cisco makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and stoops to gather them into his arms. Caitlin frowns. She's been his doctor for nine months, and his friend for several weeks already, and she's already becoming attuned to his moods, his ups-and-downs. She studies his face. Something is wrong. Barry is ashen, his brow furrowed like the Rockies, sweat dribbling down his neck under the hair that skims the collar of his shirt.

"Barry?" Caitlin calls, setting her muffin down at her desk. She walks over to touch his forearm, forcing him to look directly at her. "What's wrong?"

"It's Tony Woodward." Barry blurts out, his expression closing and darkening. "He used to beat me up when I was a kid _._ He's the guy with the iron skin, the one that I fought last night!"

"Your childhood nemesis is now an unstoppable meta-human . . . That's _seriously_ messed up." Cisco's eyes are sparkling, and his tone sounds anything _but_ upset.

Caitlin clutches her cup of coffee tighter, as though that can keep the bad memories away. "I had a childhood nemesis. Lacey Laroux." She crinkles her nose at the _fond_ memory. "She used to put gum in my hair."

Caitlin remembers that she'd run home crying. She'd been forced to chop her curls all off, much to Lacey's everlasting delight. Her hair might have grown back, but even after all these years, the sting cannot be erased.

"Jake Puckett." Cisco recalls, a rueful twist to his lips. "If I didn't let him copy my homework, he'd give me a Charley Horse."

"Okay, so now we've established that we're all _uber nerds_ , what are we going to do about Tony?" Barry closes his eyes for patience and opens them a split second later. His voice is quavering and Caitlin isn't sure if that means he's scared or if he's trying to bite back his laughter that all three of them have had pathetic school lives.

Glee lights up Cisco's eyes as he brushes past Barry and into an adjacent room. "Glad you asked."

Caitlin follows the duo, arching an eyebrow when she sees the rather primitive looking metal dummy that Cisco reveals with a flourish. "We are going to train you – _Karate Kid style!"_

"For the record," In her best _Tired Mom_ voice, Caitlin gestures offhandedly at Cisco's monstrosity - which he's proudly dubbed as _Girder_ – and purses her lips in disapproval. "This was _not_ my idea."

Hands on his hips, Cisco surveys Barry's lanky frame critically. "Fighting is all about _physics_. It's not about strength, not about size, it's about _energy_ and _power._ Channel your speed the right way, and you can totally take this bad boy down."

"Girder is gonna be a moving target." As Caitlin looks askance from the doorway, Cisco fumbles for the remote and hits a switch – with barely a creak and a groan, the metal punching bag lurches towards Barry.

A heavy fist is aimed at Barry's face and he blocks it with great difficulty. Zipping away, Barry aims a fist at Girder's stomach, and manages to get several hits in before Cisco taps another button. Girder throws more punches at different sections of Barry's body and scores a hit on his shoulder. Caitlin flinches. Barry tumbles to the ground with all the force of a felled tree, a groan of pain elicited when his back hits the concrete floor.

"I think I dislocated my shoulder!"

As Caitlin drapes an arm around Barry's waist and carts him off to the infirmary after shooting the dirtiest glare she can manage at Cisco, she can't help but think that it's a good thing she has ice and bandages at the ready.

After helping Barry out of his favorite STAR Laboratories sweatshirt, Caitlin pokes experimentally at his busted shoulder, shaking her head when he winces. "Not gonna lie, this is going to be quick, but extremely painful."

"Oh, speaking of pain . . ." Barry mumbles, after a quick glance at his chirping phone reveals the caller. "Eddie, hey."

Caitlin snaps on a pair of rubber gloves. She can make out snippets of their conversation – something about a stolen van. Barry grouses out that he'll be over in a second, and flops limply back onto his pillow pile, pulling a face at his now silent phone. It doesn't take much to guess that Barry has not taken kindly to the fact that his co-worker and his crush are dating. Caitlin, for one, feels oddly miffed, but she chalks it up to the fact that Barry is expending useless energy pining for a girl who is already _taken._

"So Barry." Caitlin draws it out like an entire conversation. "When you said you were _off duty_ last night, you weren't, you know, visiting Iris in disguise?"

The words that break the heavy blanket of silence are sharp and pointed. Caitlin's latex encased fingers tap out a rapid beat on the table. She knows what the answer will be, but she wants to hear it from _him._ "Because that would be _reckless,_ _stupid, irresponsible_ , and quite honestly, a little _creepy."_

Caitlin has a whole list of adjectives she could use to describe his little _stunts,_ but instead, she bites all her sarcastic comments back and presses her lips into a thin line. Cocking her head to one side, she watches Barry's already pale skin blanch even further. He concentrates on his well worn Converse shoes. He looks as if he's been caught sneaking cookies. She waits for him to stutter out a reply, and, as usual, Barry doesn't disappoint.

"No?" Barry asks, drawing the word out so it has ten syllables. Nooooooo.

Caitlin nods briskly. _"Good."_

And if his answering scream as she pops his shoulder back in gives her any satisfaction, well, Caitlin doesn't show it.


	3. Caitlin Is A Casanova

**A/N:** Hello everyone! Once again, thank you all very much for your kind reviews - I can't tell you how happy they make me! I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far - things are about to get a lot more exciting in the next chapter or so. Just a friendly reminder to some of you who may have taken this a bit too seriously - this is a **STORY.** It is not **CANON,** merely my own _oh-so-humble_ opinion of how episode six would have turned out if Caitlin had been kidnapped. Now that _that's_ out of the way, on with the chapter! Reviews, subscriptions and favorites are appreciated!

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A cup of coffee wafts steam on a sign that beckons people to come inside Jitters. The shop is made of grey bricks, swallowed up by the town around it. It sits back from the road and up a set of concrete steps. A tiny jingle bell chimes her entrance from a hook on the back of the door. The first thing that envelops her is the combination of scents: Yeasty doughnuts, vanilla, cinnamon, fresh coffee, warm milk and cake. It reminds Caitlin that she's skipped eating lunch _and_ has yet to have her daily fix of caffeine.

The place itself is a large single room, with small circular tables with glass tops, under which people put business cards and signs and notices. Photographs of laughing children and playful dogs, and watercolors and acrylics of American scene-scapes, of red barns and covered bridges blanket the rest of the wall space not taken up by menu boards. Chatter and laughter fill the air; for the first time in day, Caitlin finds herself relaxing. As she moves closer to the counter to grab a menu, she walks through pockets of aroma, each one a comforting embrace of all that is good in this upside-down world.

The scent of ginger and lemon billows off fluffy scones cooling on the counter, and makes her stomach growl. She debates ordering one of those to go, maybe grabbing a few for Cisco and Dr. Wells. Just as she's decided to add on a spiced chai latte as well, a hushed discussion by her elbow catches her attention. Caitlin flattens her gaze to the menu, tacking on a deliberating frown for good measure.

"So where's your shadow?" The blond behind the counter whispers conspiratorially, winking roguishly at a svelte brunette. "He hasn't been in all week."

"Barry and I had a fight, okay?" The brunette - _Iris_ , Caitlin belatedly realizes - mutters, smashing coffee beans with her scoop as though imagining Barry's head beneath her spoon. "He's getting his fix somewhere else."

Caitlin stills. He didn't tell her _that._ Jealousy ripples through her, a knee-jerk reaction that she can't quite explain.

The blonde titters. "That's too bad. He's cute. I kind of miss having him around."

She's heard enough. Her gaze narrows, irritation clouding her vision. This is irrational. She shouldn't be so worked up over something that isn't her problem – _nor_ her business. Caitlin clears her throat, and gestures at her menu with a vapid smile that she doesn't really feel.

"Good afternoon. Welcome to CC Jitters, may I take your order?" With a pointed look at the blond behind the counter, the brunette turns with a smile and friendly eyes.

It is then that Caitlin Snow gets her first glimpse of Iris West. The other girl is tall and slender, with big dark eyes and a cascade of straight brown hair. Her lips are lush and red, her cheekbones high and sculpted. Her shirt is modestly sexy, a flowing sheath of floral silk that contrasts beautifully with her café-au-lait skin. She looks like a fucking supermodel and exudes an exotic sex appeal.

"I . . . I'll have a chai latte, with extra cinnamon and whipped cream. Oh, and four of those scones to go, please." Caitlin moves a step away.

"Coming right up!" Iris nods, scribbling madly on her notepad. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thanks." The cashier trots out a reasonable total, and Caitlin gropes about in her bag for her wallet.

The bell at the front door tinkles cheerfully, signaling another customer. Iris moves off to greet them and a second later, Caitlin hears her gasp. She looks up, half expecting to see Barry sauntering in, hands in his pockets, that bright, easy smile on his face. Caitlin's guess is way off.

It's a male, muscled like a serious weight lifter, with enormous biceps that frame a chest the size of a compact car. His skin is bronzed, his eyes long and angled, his face, nose and lips narrow, as if someone's shaped them with a razor. He has a headful of dark brown hair, shaved close to his head, and one silver stud glints in his ear. Dressed casually in a pair of cargo pants, a pair of combat boots and an olive muscle tank, the man saunters into the coffee joint as if he owns the place. His eyes, so tense and hostile, brighten when he catches sight of the girl by the counter. "Iris. Long time no see. You look _great."_

Iris' reply is less-than enthusiastic. "Thanks, Tony. You too."

 _Tony, as in Tony Woodward? Meta-human who landed Barry in the hospital?_

Caitlin deliberately takes her time, fumbling out the cash with slow and jerky fingers. She fights down trepidation, which persists even though Tony has showed no outward signs of aggression. The cashier behind the counter seems preoccupied with Iris' and Tony's exchange of pleasantries, gaping at them open-mouthed.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I work out." Proudly, he flexes his muscles, showing off an intricate tattoo on his skin. "There's a gym near my place. I live in Keystone, the west side. You should – uh – stop by sometime."

 _I've heard better pickup lines from teenagers,_ Caitlin wants to snipe, but refrains. She shouldn't be thinking about Tony's ( lack of ) flirting skills – not when there is a potentially dangerous meta-human on the loose. Her stomach pitches with nerves. She thinks about calling for Barry, but dismisses the thought almost instantly. A fight will most likely break out, there's a high chance he'll lose, and everyone in the city will be alerted to The Flash's presence – the very thing that they've been trying so hard to prevent. The police are out of the question. They've just gotten tossed around by Tony a few days ago, and it's clear that they are not a match for him.

In the end, Caitlin settles for snagging a table by the door as she waits for her order, deciding on a _'wait-and-see'_ course of action. She keeps an anxious eye on the duo and her phone close at hand in case things really _do_ turn nasty. She'll call Barry, but only as a last resort. The last thing she needs is to have to patch him up again – or to see him get pummeled in front of her own eyes. Her knees quiver, and she eases onto a chair, fighting to keep her expression neutral.

It is Iris who hands her the extra-large chai latte, assuring her that her scones are on the way, an edge in her voice. It's funny – Caitlin had been hungry before, but now her stomach seems to have shrunk to the size of a walnut. Tony is nothing if not persistent, following Iris like he's her new shadow. "I was looking for you, Iris. You run a blog, right? Writing about the red streak?"

"The Flash," Caitlin comments automatically, remembering Cisco's distaste for the nickname 'The Streak', proclaiming that 'The Flash' has a grander ring to Barry's superhero persona. Both Iris and Tony stop to gape at her.

Comprehension fills Iris' eyes. "You've seen him, too?"

She could have kicked herself for giving away vital intelligence.

 _I see him every day._ Iris' question hangs in the air between them, a tangible thing. Caitlin licks her dry lips and nods shakily. Looking warily from Iris to Caitlin, Tony cracks the knuckles of his right hand against his hip. Caitlin leans away from him, filled with dread. Her heart gallops in her chest.

"Why are you writing about this guy?" His voice is a rumble of an earthquake, powerful and demanding.

To Iris' credit, she doesn't back down, merely raising her chin higher and looking at Tony dead in the eye. "People say that he's a _hero."_

"Yeah?" Tony snorts derisively, walking around Iris and Caitlin in a circle. "Well, _I_ say that he's a coward. I happened to know that he took a beating last night and ran off like a little girl."

No one who risks his life to save people from inside a burning building can _ever_ be a coward. How can he say such a thing? She bites back the retort on the tip of her tongue, anger clouding her vision. The urge to throw her cup of coffee at him is all too real, along with the urge to scream at him for what he did to Barry. Twelve years down the road and she still can't understand how humans can take pleasure in inflicting harm upon someone physically smaller and weaker than them. Caitlin wants to drive her fists into him, but she settles for twisting her fingers together until they grow chilly from lack of blood.

If she acts rashly, it'll be _her_ in the hospital bed. Not Barry.

"So, uh . . ." Voice deceptively casual, Tony leans forward, attention back on Iris. "You have any idea who that guy is?"

"No clue." Iris says firmly, clearly intending to close the conversation. "I have to get back to work."

Caitlin is still turning over the conversation about Barry, and she has a sudden inspiration. It's a stupid plan, but she doesn't have any better ideas that _don't_ involve Barry or the police. She hopes that Tony doesn't see through her sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting. Unless alcohol is involved, her attempt to be sultry is sure to be a painful and embarrassing _fail._ But this is for Barry. She remembers laughing giddily in the lab, dopamine flooding her brain, after Barry defeated the first meta-human. She remembers feeling something other than _numb_ , nine months after Ronnie's death. She remembers the anguish clawing at her throat, how her heart had taken off like a frightened baby bird's when Barry had looked into her eyes, gently but firmly telling her, _"Caitlin, I have to go"_ – an exact mirror of Ronnie's last words. Caitlin doesn't want Barry to die. She's lost too many people in her life, and Barry isn't about to become another one of them. She swallows, trying to channel every _Buffy_ episode she's ever seen to her mind.

 _It's now or never, Snow._

Before Tony can walk off, Caitlin leans forward and catches his elbow, purposely allowing him a tantalizing peek down her shirt. She smiles at him - a slow, sweeping smile that starts with her lips and then shines in her eyes, the kind of smile that says she's just noticed something she's never seen before. Something she suddenly likes - and _wants._

"So . . . You're interested in that red-suited guy too, huh?" She asks, trying not to look like an idiot as she flutters her eyelids the way she's seen girls do on TV. "I thought I was the only one!"

"He and I have a score to settle." Tony admits haughtily, tossing back his broad shoulders.

"Really?" Her face is full of false surprise. "I would've thought since you beat him up the other night, he wouldn't _dare_ show his face around town again."

She's laying it on thick, but Tony, thankfully, doesn't notice. Caitlin just tries to look like a brainless bimbo, one who only has eyes for the nearest hunk of muscle. It seems that that's Tony's favorite kind of girl, one who can fawn over his _brawn,_ rather than his _brains -_ that'sassuming he has _any,_ of course.

Tony snorts, and flexes his muscles. "This time, I'll make sure can't he run away."

The thought scares her, terrifies her, makes her feel like a rat in a sinking box with no way out. She doesn't want Barry anywhere this homicidal maniac until they've worked out how to beat him. Alarm chokes her throat. Caitlin tries to calm her heartbeat and her breathing.

"Mm, that would make for an interesting front page story." She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, which looks stained with freshly pressed roses. "I'm a reporter for the Central Times, you know."

That earns her a narrowed eyed glance. "Really?"

" _Yes."_ She giggles, plastering a pout onto glossy lips. "But things have been _so_ boring lately. I was thinking about writing about the Flash, but I think I've got something _way_ more interesting . . ."

"Him?" Tony's voice roughens, lowers an octave. "That pussy isn't worth your time. Me, on the other hand . . ."

Caitlin fixes a cutely puzzled frown onto her face, and takes her time checking him out, smiling as though she likes what she sees. "You're definitely photogenic, alright."

"How about it, babe?" He gives her what he probably thinks is a charming smile.

"Mmm, anyone who can keep up with the Flash is big news in my book," She says silkily, catching his eye meaningfully and pressing a scrap of paper into his hand – she's scrawled out her phone number, along with the message 'call me' in a messy hand. "I'd be _delighted_ to write about you, Mr. Woodward."

He unfolds it, looking for all the world like a kid opening presents on Christmas morning. "I'll call you, babe. And, uh, call me Tony."

"It's Caitlin." She turns to go, still giving him that hypnotic smile. "I look forward to seeing you again . . . _Tony."_

As soon as Caitlin is out of his sight, her smile lapses into a grimace. _Ack._ She doesn't think it is possible to loathe that guy anymore, but she's been proven wrong once again. Still, flirting with him, she realizes, might be the best way to keep an eye on him, maybe even weasel information out of him. She feels pretty sure that Tony is gunning for Iris, but if _she_ manages to capture his attention, she won't have to see Barry get worked up should something to Iris. If she appears to fall prey to his so-called charm too, he might let his guard down enough for her to take him back to STAR Labs.

It is only when she reaches the lab that the full entirety of what she has done hits her like a punch to the gut.

"Oh _hell."_ She swears.

Now she's _really_ gone and done it.


	4. Caitlin, Post Coffee Run

**A/N:** Shout-outs to **.7777** , **ShanouNash** , **Simmy** , **Scout** , **Clash of the Legends** , **Firebird08x** and all the other awesome guests who left reviews! It's great to know that so many of you are enjoying the story! This particular chapter, however, is dedicated to **Masqueraded Angel** \- you, my friend, have no idea how much your review meant to me. Thank you. And to the two _special_ guests, I think this quote - _"Out of my sight! Thou dost infect my eyes" -_ basically says it all. Reviews, subscriptions and likes are appreciated!

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"Hey, Caitlin." Cisco calls, grabbing the neatly wrapped package as soon as she steps into the lab. "How was that coffee run?"

Caitlin heaves an exhale, looking down at the forgotten paper cup in her hands. "Coffee run?"

"Yeah. You mentioned you were in dire need of coffee, and you stepped out to get some." Cisco looks at her as though she's grown a second head. "Did you hit your head on a wall or something?"

Barry is more astute, glancing at her with narrowed eyes. His face hardens with concern. "Caitlin, are you okay? Did something happen?"

"I – No. No." _Pull yourself together, Snow._ "The place was . . . Packed."

Caitlin forces out a laugh. She's embarrassed to admit she sounds like a frog has jumped into her throat and played bongos on her voice box. Cisco stares, his mouth hanging open so wide that she can see his tonsils – and a chewed up mouthful of mushy scone, which makes her own empty stomach spasm, trying to find something to expel. Barry mirrors her actions from the other day, walking over and touching her forearm gently. Eyes the color and hue of finely cut emeralds bore into her own, staring at her with an expression that speaks for him. _Something's wrong. Tell me. I'll fix it. Let me help you._

Caitlin hastily changes the subject, tearing her eyes away from Barry's before she can blurt out her encounter in _Jitters_ and spill the beans. She moves away, an abrupt sense of loss trammeling through her, the heat of Barry's fingers still clinging to the silk weave of her blouse. Barry drops his suddenly graceless hands to his sides. "Cisco, have you figured anything out yet? You mentioned analyzing the metal Barry found."

"Oh, yeah." Cisco mumbles around a mouthful of scone. Licking his fingers clean, he picks up a tablet and shoots Barry an excited grin. "So get this – the gravel you pulled from Tony's ride contains 76.8% of hematite consistent with the brand at Keystone Iron Works."

Realization crosses Barry's face. "It closed down ten months ago. It's a perfect tie."

Setting down her unfinished cup of coffee, Caitlin grabs her own tablet and checks her email, needing to keep her restless fingers busy. Her stomach still flips restlessly from her encounter with Tony, but she'll doesn't think she'll puke. She finds a Google alert digest for 'The Streak'. Only one mention, in the forty minutes that she's been away, which only serves to make a bad feeling tickle her neck and put her more on edge. She opens the e-mail, clicks on the first link and finds herself landing on a very familiar blog. The newest article in Iris' blog is short, and to the point.

' _I have info about someone you're looking for. He was here. You know where to find me.'_

It only takes Caitlin a second to read it, and she looks up with a deceptively pleasant smile that comes off more like teeth-baring. " _So,_ Barry. Do you mind telling me about this?"

Barry's face blooms with a near-comical expression of mingled horror and guilt. He flushes crimson beneath his tan, opening and closing his mouth like a koi as he struggles to think of a suitable reply. Caitlin doesn't deny the feeling of vindication that surges through her as she reads the article out for him, enunciating every word crisply and clearly. "Now, _who on earth_ could she _possibly_ be talking to?"

Her phone shrills, once, twice. Casting a dark look at Barry – who looks relieved that his lecture has been postponed - Caitlin rummages through her handbag and finds her phone with shaking fingers. The number on the screen is unfamiliar, and panic shivers up her spine. Her mouth is dry. _It's Tony,_ she thinks. She'd hoped that he would call once she was at home, but no dice.

"Caitlin?" A voice, Barry's, asks. At least, that's what Caitlin thinks he says. Barry sounds like he is underwater.

She sets her tablet on the table, and moves away from them, her heels clicking a rapid beat on the tiled floor. Her first instinct is to head for the toilet, somewhere quiet really, so that she can spare Barry and Cisco from hearing how she makes an ass of herself on the phone. Carefully avoiding Barry's eyes – _honestly,_ they make one feel all warm and fuzzy about spilling their guts – Caitlin scoots into the toilet, locking the door behind her.

"Hi, Caitlin Snow speaking." She tries to make her voice sound breathy and girlish, a cross between Scarlett Johansson and Marilyn Monroe.

"Hey, babe, it's Tony. Remember me?"

At least she doesn't have to bat her eyelashes at him. "How could I forget?" She coos.

"Hey, about you writing about me . . ."

"You haven't found someone else to write for you, have you?" Caitlin tries to sound flustered and upset. "I _really_ need that article."

"No, no, babe. I still want you." Caitlin hopes she's just imagining the double meaning behind his words. "I was wondering if we could meet tonight?"

"Sure." This time, the happiness in Caitlin's voice is almost genuine. "I get off work at seven thirty. Where can we meet?"

He gives her an address and hangs up. Caitlin glances at the Rolex on her wrist – a graduation present from her mother and father. It's half past five. If she dashes home now, she might just be able to change into a more _suitable_ outfit and down to – she squints down at the bright screen of her phone. A quick Google search has turned up that Tony Woodward wants to meet her at the Keystone Iron Works. One doesn't have to be a genius to know that he wants her to come _alone._

Barry is hovering by the doorway, observing Caitlin with a brooding expression that makes her shiver as she finally opens the door. He makes her feel itchy and hot and unused to her own skin.

"What?" Caitlin breaks the silence with a bark.

He swallows. "Caitlin, you've – Uh –"

"What?" She prods impatiently.

"– You've been acting weird since you've came back." She thinks she sees worry and hurt pass over his face. "– Is something wrong?"

Caitlin toys with the idea of telling Barry, but the idea of taking a more active role in the mission and the overwhelming need to keep him _alive_ and _safe_ finally wins out. She pinches her lips together. "No, everything's fine. Something cropped up, and I – I have to leave early."

"How early is –"

"– _Now._ It's kind of urgent, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, she brushes past him, collecting her bag. She doesn't mean to be brusque, but the clock is ticking. Tony will go for Iris if she doesn't show, and she doesn't need to know that Barry won't be happy if _that_ happens. "I'll drop in later tonight, if I can."

"Caitlin." Barry's eyes lock with hers and he inhales, about to speak – but he decides against it. Instead, he grabs her significantly softer hand, gripping onto it like a vise. His hand is warm in hers, like a blazing bonfire, callused and corded with muscle.

"I'll be back in a flash." Caitlin faintly hears herself say, snatching her hand back and hurrying away, still feeling the brush of his fingers against hers.


	5. Caitlin's Date Is Interrupted

**A/N:** This time, it's a pretty short update, but I'll be back in a day or two with a new ( and hopefully longer ) chapter! Reviews, subscriptions and favorites are appreciated!

* * *

An hour later, Caitlin stands in front of the mirror, clad in a silk tank top, deep violet and low-cut, paired with a floral chiffon skirt. The skirt covers half her thighs and swirls when she spins. It's one of the more . . . _Risqué_ outfits in her wardrobe, and she's glad to have a use for it. With her hair swept off her face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, she has a deliberately casual look that is complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips.

She's swapped her large carry-all for a black Kate Spade knockoff. She's packed her _Tony Woodward Combat Kit_ , which includes pepper spray, a fully charged phone, a bowie knife, a flashlight and a first aid kit. All the items seem inadequate when compared to _metal skin,_ but it's all Caitlin is able to muster up in such short time – and seeing as how Cisco has yet to come up with any weapons to put Girder in his place, they _are_ better than nothing.

She manages to hail a cab, and she slides wearily onto the plastic covered backseat. The inside of the bright yellow taxi smells of old cigarette smoke, leather, and hair spray. Her phone chirps again, and a frown creases her brow as she rummages through her handbag. She swears, if that is Tony again . . .

It's not.

"Cisco?"

She hears his sigh of relief. "Caitlin, you _have_ to get back here."

"What? Why? Did Barry hurt himself again?" Her voice sharpens. _Maybe this is a bad idea; maybe she should just say something . . ._

Caitlin can practically see Cisco's brow furrowing. "No, but I have a bad feeling. Barry's at Keystone Iron Works now, and _, man,_ he is furious."

"Keystone Iron Works?" Caitlin repeats, sagging back in her seat. "Oh _no._ He found out about Iris didn't he?"

"Yeah, apparently Girder visited her while she was at work –" Suspicion colors his voice. "– Wait. How'd you know?"

Her stomach drops and her mouth dries. Tony is there. He is _there,_ and he will show no mercy to Barry. "Cisco. I'm on my way there."

She hangs up as the cab tears down the street, hoping that she'll get there in time to help Barry.


	6. Caitlin's Date Is A No-Show

**A/N:** As promised, here is the extra long chapter! *jazz hands* Reviews, favorites and subscriptions are appreciated!

* * *

Caitlin's feet fall into step, heels barely touching the ground, toes pointed forward. Before the taxi slows to a stop, she shoves a wad of money at the driver, pulls the door open and leaps out. Her strappy heeled stilettos click out a frantic beat on the pavement, her feet and hands moving in a flurry of desperation.

 _He can't be dead. He can't be dead. He can't be dead._

Her palms sweat and her face flames. So foreign is being in the thick of danger that Caitlin feels completely overcome with panic. Her sense that something is wrong only increases when she reaches the main door to the factory. It is unlocked, hanging slightly open. With a feeling of increasing panic she pushes the door open. She rushes inside before she can change her mind. Caitlin stands frozen in the dark, letting her eyes adjust, pleading silently with her pulse to slow down. The only windows are high up and barred; faint street noise comes through them, the sound of honking cars and squealing brakes. The room smells like old paint and a heavy layer of dust covers the floor, marked by smeared shoe prints. The shadows seem full of secret movement and evil shapes take form: Racks, over-turned buckets, a lump of cooled metal on the floor, side tables and empty beer bottles.

"Barry?" Caitlin whispers, trying to speak through the panic constricting her trachea. "Where are you?"

There is no reply. In the moonlight, Caitlin picks her way over haphazardly discarded food wrappers, her stomach contracting in terror. Metal crunches underfoot. As her eyes adjust to the gloom, she can make out a few things that don't belong – a low, wooden table, an embroidered carpet and dumbbells stacked in the corner. An icy fingernail skims up her spine. She's found Tony's hideout, but there is no sign of its owner, and she can't see Barry anywhere.

She inhales, trying to remember how to breathe. Caitlin's heart beats against her ribs like a shoe in the dryer, a knocking, a loud thump. She's sure that everyone in a five foot radius can hear it. She knows she should call Cisco for backup, maybe even give Joe a ring. But all these things seem distant – she needs to find Barry first, needs to see that he's alright.

Gripping her tiny canister of pepper spray, Caitlin moves further into the murky gloom. For a moment, she thinks that Barry has managed to escape and a wave of relief crashes over her. Then a noise sounds through the silent space, raising the short hairs along the nape of her neck. Like something being knocked over – a heavy object striking the floor with a dull thud. The thud is followed by a familiar whimper of pain, somewhere to her left.

She screams his name just once, anguish coloring her tone a deep indigo. _"Barry!"_

"Caitlin?" He calls, his voice weak and barely audible. "That you?"

She means to sound teasing, but her voice is too thin, fraying apart at the edges. "Who else?"

Heart pumping, she races over, wrenching away a variety of spare parts – rusted cogs, nuts and bolts - until she can see his face. Barry groans again, and his eyes flutter open. Lightly, so gently that she is barely touching him, Caitlin's fingers brush over his face, mottled blue and green. There is a bloody gash on his cheek, and though he hisses in pain when she probes at it, Barry still looks up at her with trusting eyes. A sob rises in her chest. She can't believe this. She's patched him up so many times that seeing Barry injured should be second nature; only this time, she is torn between the urge to cry and tossing Tony Woodward into a recycling plant.

This _has_ to be PMS.

"What are you _wearing?"_ Even in pain, Barry's half-lidded eyes pop wide open as he takes in her outfit. It suddenly occurs to Caitlin that he's never seen her in anything other than her high-necked blouses and pencil skirts. He struggles, trying to push her away, but it's like watching a butterfly take on a bear. "It's not safe, you need to leave –"

Caitlin tries to smile, but her lips are frozen in place and those accursed tears actually well up in her eyes. "I am _not_ leaving you here."

"You have to." His hand finds hers, and establishes a tight grip around her wrist. Caitlin can feel the desperation and fear – not for his own safety, but for _hers_ – emanating off him in waves. "He could come back, you have to _go."_

She holds up her can of pepper spray, trying to crack a joke. "I'm armed and dangerous."

" _Caitlin."_ It falls flat. Barry doesn't laugh. _"Please."_

"I'm going to get you out, okay?" Ignoring him, Caitlin hugs him tight, her chest against his back. She wedges her feet against what solid surface she can find and makes sure there isn't anything in her way. "Just hold on."

Barry braces himself and inhales a substantial breath. Summoning all her strength, Caitlin manages to yank Barry's legs out from under the rack. They collapse onto the floor in a tangled heap, her back and head absorbing the brunt of the impact. Caitlin lies on the floor for what seems to be an eternity, trying to remember how to breathe, trying to distinguish the various aches and pains in her limbs. Barry's moan pours out the pain around them, but he is strong and full of life.

"Let me help." It takes her a moment to realize that Cisco is peering into her face with concern.

"Where _were_ you?" She wants to screech.

Cisco grabs Barry, hauling him to his feet with a grunt. "Doctor Wells told me to find you two. Barry's signal stayed here for some time, and we got worried. I'm sorry."

Caitlin wobbles to her feet, her legs feeling like waterlogged noodles. Cisco is helping Barry into a white Range Rover. She slips into the backseat with Barry, letting his limp head rest on her lap as a makeshift pillow. She wishes for the shiny, high-tech machines back at STAR Labs, but basic first aid is all she can do for Barry at the moment. She hears Cisco leap into the driver's side and start the Rover.

"Barry?" Caitlin croaks out. "Talk to me."

"Hurts."

"It's okay." Caitlin fumbles for the first aid kit in her bag, pressing a cold compress to the mottled skin of Barry's face. "I'll look after you."

"Blood." He mumbles.

Caitlin frowns. His words can't keep up with his thoughts. Cisco accelerates into a turn so fast that she presses against the door. She stifles a moan.

"Sorry!" Cisco hollers.

The adrenaline rush has carried Caitlin into an abyss and she starts to shiver. "What about the blood, Barry?"

"'M dirtying your pretty dress." Barry is struggling to keep his eyes open, and she slaps his cheek, jerking him back.

"It's _fine,_ Barry." Caitlin grabs a pack of antiseptic wipes and focuses on stripping the dirt and grime from his raw skin, steeling herself and ignoring Barry's moan of pain. She tastes salt on her lips. She turns her head aside so that if her tears come, Barry's face will at least remain dry. "I never liked this outfit much, anyway."

"But _I_ do." Barry barely manages a few syllables around his irrepressible need to pass out.

"Is that so?" Caitlin's heart kicks into gear; she forces herself to speak in a calm that she doesn't really feel. "Then I'll wear it every day."

His sleepy smile kicks her in the gut. "You promise?"

"Hang on, we're almost there." Cisco must have been speeding like a race car driver.

"I promise." Caitlin's voice sounds like glass shards in a blender. "As long as you stay with me."

Barry's eyes flutter shut, but he manages a last splutter. "'Course. I'll . . . Always . . ."

"Barry?" Caitlin shakes him roughly, but Barry doesn't respond. _"Barry!"_

Cisco slams to a stop and apologizes when Caitlin cries out. "Sorry, sorry."

Cisco drags an unconscious Barry into the laboratory, and Caitlin follows, after inhaling an ample breath and swearing to find a way to stop the menace that is Tony Woodward.


	7. Caitlin and Barry Have a Moment

**A/N:** Okay, so roughly two to three more chapters to go before the story is all finished! The next chapter has all the action, and I'll try to get it up ASAP! Reviews, subscriptions and favorites are appreciated!

* * *

"What on earth were you _thinking?"_ Dr. Wells' voice is laced with iron as he rolls up and down, pausing to glare at Barry, who hangs his head accordingly. "I told you that _we_ would figure out a way to deal with him!"

"I'll heal," Barry says groggily, rubbing his temples.

The sharp smell of antiseptic fills the small room. Barry's bruises have healed remarkably quickly, but Caitlin's latex-encased hands still quake as she unscrews the bottle of antiseptic, remembering how Barry's had stubbornly refused to wake, no matter how loudly she'd shouted or pleaded. She feels fear choke her throat. It had been a close call. If she and Cisco hadn't gotten there on time . . .

Dr. Wells' voice raises, his anger flaring. "You can't heal when you're _dead."_

A strangled squeak rips its way from Caitlin's throat and the bottle slips from her frozen fingers. It bounces across the silver veined floor, spilling bright green liquid onto the marble. She scrambles to pick the plastic bottle up, knowing that Barry would have been able to catch it if he weren't so exhausted from battling Tony. Forcing breath into her lungs, Caitlin grabs a rag, mopping at the mess on the floor until the cloth is soaked in antiseptic and there is no trace of the accident.

"Caitlin?" Barry lifts his head up and stares at her.

Even exhausted and bruised, the boy is _still_ caring for others. Her throat tightens, and she shakes her head.

Deciding that antiseptic wipes will be safer, Caitlin swipes some across the cut on Barry's cheek. It is shallow, not as bad as it was in the car. There is a sharp intake of breath from Barry, but he doesn't make any moves away from her ministrations. She closes her eyes on a sigh of frustration, fear speeding up her breathing and her heartbeat. She doesn't know _what_ she's apologizing for. "I'm sorry."

"He could have _killed_ you." Dr. Wells barks at Barry.

Frustration colors Barry's tone; Caitlin gives him a gentle shove and a nod to signal that she's done, and Barry strides out of the make-shift infirmary. "I _know,_ alright, I _know!"_

"In the past _thirty-six hours_ , I've had my ass handed to me _twice_ by the same guy who tortured me as a kid." Barry stokes Caitlin's distress and frustration with her own. She presses her lips together in a thin line, and focuses on clearing up her medical supplies. "I couldn't stop him _then_ , and I can't stop him _now._ Even with my powers, I'm still _powerless_ against him!"

Dr. Wells' expression closes and darkens. "Not necessarily. Cisco?"

Recognizing his cue, Cisco, who has been completely silent throughout Barry's outburst, scurries over to the computer at his desk. Caitlin pulls off her rubber gloves with a snap, and tosses them in the bin, along with the soaked rag and the empty bottle that once held antiseptic.

"Any material, if struck at a high enough velocity, can be compromised."

Cisco pipes up from the background. "We ran more tests on the metal in Tony's footprints. Based on its density and atomic structure, if you impact it at just the right angle, at just the right speed, you could do some serious damage."

 _This is a bad idea._ Arms akimbo, Caitlin is seized by a sudden unease that hovers over her gut and tightens its fingers on her bowels. Her stomach pitches with nerves.

"How fast would I have to go?" Barry's expression clouds.

"Factoring in the metal's tensile strength, estimated thermal thickness, atmosphere pressure, air temp . . ." Cisco's fingers fly over the keyboard as he taps out an equation rapid-fire. "You'd have to hit him at approximately Mach one-point-one."

"So, let me get this straight." Caitlin decides that now is a good time as any to intervene. Her tone is sharp and biting. "You want Barry to hit a _moving target_ at _eight hundred miles an hour?"_

Cisco is shaking his head before she has even finished her sentence. "Eight hundred and thirty-seven, actually."

"That's faster than the speed of sound!" Worry eats at Caitlin's forced calm.

"I _know!"_ Cisco rubs his hands together like a child; normally, Caitlin loves seeing the sparkle of enthusiasm in his eyes, but today, her stomach twists itself into knots and fear clamps her gut. "You might even create a sonic boom, which, as I've said before, would be _awesome!"_

Barry shakes his head, ashen and stooped. "I've never gone that fast."

" _Yet."_ Dr. Wells remarks, with quiet confidence.

"I can't believe that we're actually _entertaining_ this idea!" The words burst out of her before Caitlin can change her mind. She takes angry strides forward, a panic induced rage fueling her actions. "I mean, he'd need a _straight shot_ from _miles away!_ And what, you think Tony's just going to _stand there_ and let Barry hit him?" She exhales a pitiful laugh that is tinged with hysteria; Barry turns to stare warily at her, like she is a wild animal in a cage.

"Yeah, five point three miles, theoretically." Cisco says this so matter-of-factly that she wonders if she's misheard him.

"Do it right, and you'll take him down." Dr. Wells says mildly, as though they are merely talking about the weather forecast for today.

"Do it _wrong,_ and you'll shatter _every bone in your body."_ Caitlin shakes her head, already backing away.

Barry tries to grab her when she runs past him towards the door. It doesn't matter if there are repercussions; she has to find a quiet place to breathe. The walls are folding in on her. The world spins too fast, with colors too bright for her eyes, sounds too loud in her ears. Caitlin can taste the terror she'd first felt when she found Barry in the factory. The taste is sharp and coppery on her tongue like old pennies.

The stars shine brightly and a full moon spotlights the shadows and shades of vegetation. Grays, blacks, blues and browns compete with whites and ecrus, a battle of light and dark around her. Caitlin sags against a tree, crumpling into herself. Barry might have super healing, but even his powers have limits. And his total and utter disregard for his own safety is icing on the cake. It's as if a dam has broken. Tears pool in her eyes and track down her cheeks. Caitlin scrubs at her cheeks and eyes with the back of her wrist, until her eyes are red and raw.

A sudden gust of wind sends tendrils of russet colored hair flying. She slings a glance behind her, but finds it empty. Barry is standing beside her, not touching her, but close enough for Caitlin to feel his presence, his expression sheepish. He rubs his hands along his denim-clad thighs. His feet tap out a rapid cadence on the gravel, apparently too anxious to stay still.

"Caitlin? Are you – Oh, crap. Crap." Barry sounds panicked. "I'm sorry. I . . . Oh, crap."

More tears prick her lids. Caitlin sniffs them back. "I thought you were _dead."_

"I'm sorry." He keeps repeating.

The tears come in a flash flood. "You _could_ die. It's too risky."

Barry swallows, but doesn't disagree. He leans closer, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. "But it's the only way."

 _No, it's not._

"It's okay." Barry acts as if he can chase the bad away. Even when his possible death looms, he is still offering her comfort that she does not deserve. "Everything will be okay."

The sobs come one, then the next, with barely a pause to breathe as her frame is racked with the release of so many built-up emotions. Barry lets her cry it out, lets the front of his shirt run cold and damp with her tears as she clings to him and burrows closer, letting his heat warm her and ease her into a calm that belies the tempest of emotions raging about within her. Since Ronnie has died, no one else's arms have made her feel safe. Loved. Protected.

"It's okay." He murmurs into her hair, whispering words of reassurance, tracing soothing circles on her back.

 _It's okay. It's okay._ Caitlin repeats the words like a mantra until she actually starts to believe it. _It's okay._


	8. Caitlin Prepares For Battle

**A/N:** And the next chapter is going to be juicy! Reviews, subscriptions and favorites are appreciated!

* * *

" _Tony? Are you okay?" Caitlin asked in a high-pitched squeal, forcing herself to ramble on endlessly. "I was so worried, I went to Keystone to find you, but you weren't there, and the whole place was swarming with police officers –"_

" _Hey, babe." Tony sounds tired, and there is a note of something she can't quite identify in his voice. "Sorry about that. The red-suited guy showed up, and I beat the crap out of him."_

 _So she'd heard. Biting back her anger, Caitlin continues to play the part of afflicted admirer. "Are you okay? Did you win? What happened?"_

" _Of course I won." Pride radiates through those three words. "I kicked his ass once, and I'll do it again. Can I see you today? You still need that article, right?"_

" _Yes! Yes!" Thank goodness for small mercies, Caitlin thinks, delight managing to chase away some – if not all – of the cloud hovering over her heart. "I'll see you at four thirty, outside The Amaranth. Thank you so much!"_

Watching as Cisco runs simulations on the flat screen, Caitlin worries her bottom lip in between her teeth. Terrible contortions of Barry lying on the ground, writhing in pain runs on an unending loop in her mind. Panic makes her heart race and her palms sweat. Simply thinking of Tony and Barry going at it brings dry heaves of anxiety. She tries repeating it to herself, over and over again until she doesn't physically react to it. She'll keep trying.

Today, Caitlin's dressed in a clingy, navy dress made of georgette. It has spaghetti straps and an asymmetrical hemline, jagged and ruffled, that rises high on her left leg. Her hair is brushed and styled to a burnished sheen, and frames her face like a russet crown. Her skin glows; a dark smoky shadow brings out the blue in her eyes, and her lips look stained with freshly picked roses.

"Ouch," Cisco comments, wincing as the Barry on the screen collides with Tony and explodes like a supernova in space.

"Ouch?" Caitlin repeats, barking out a slightly maniacal laugh. _"Ouch?"_

Watching the on-screen Barry explodes only serves to remind Caitlin of the fatal consequences if her meeting with Tony doesn't go as planned. She glances at the clock on her phone. If she wants to be there on time, she'll have to leave immediately, especially since she wants to stop at her apartment to grab her _Tony Woodward Combat Kit,_ which is still inside her Kate Spade knockoff.

"I'll see you later, Cisco," With a wave, and a smile to mask the panic trammeling through her veins, Caitlin makes for the door. "I need coffee."

 _And I've got one meta-human to capture._


	9. Caitlin Is Taken

**A/N:** *wheezing* One juicy chapter down, two more to go! If anyone recognizes the phrase that Caitlin says, I'll give you all cookies! I'm thinking of doing another SnowBarry one-shot, but this time, with Kid Flash and Jinx from Teen Titans ( does anyone remember that show? ). I'll post that story once this one is finished, so keep an eye out!

* * *

Something isn't right. Her gut rings the itty-bitty panic bell. Caitlin's sense that something is wrong only increases when she reaches the apartment door. It is unlocked, hanging slightly open, spilling a wedge-shaped shaft of light onto the landing. With a feeling of increasing panic, she pushes the door open.

Inside the apartment the lights are on, all the lamps, everything turned up to full brightness. The glow stabs into her eyes.

She tip-toes into the living room. The lacy white curtains, which frame the French windows like snow, have been ripped to shreds. Cushions have been ripped from the sofa and are scattered around the room. Some are torn lengthwise, cotton innards strewn about the floor with colorful abandon. The bookshelves have been tipped over, their contents scattered.

She is at the door to her own bedroom now. For a moment it looks as if this room, at least, has been left untouched. Rumpled blankets cover the massive sleigh bed like an inviting nest. The fuzzy white rug tickles her feet. Ronnie and her own face smile back at her from the top of the bedside table, posing in ugly Christmas sweaters.

The door creaks open. Stomach contracting in terror, Caitlin scrambles to her feet and turns around slowly.

It's Tony. And he does _not_ look happy. His eyes roll white and wild, his once handsome features contorted into a mask of pure fury – all of which is directed at her.

She is definitely going to be sick now. There is pain coming, she can see it in his eyes. Her knees begin to shake, and she is afraid she'll going to fall. All her instincts scream at her to run. A shriek tears itself out of Caitlin's throat. She staggers backwards, trips, and falls, just as he lunges at her. She rolls to the side and he misses her by inches, sliding along the wood floor, and crashing into the bedside table. A low growl bubbles from his throat.

She scrambles to her feet and runs toward the hallway, but Tony charges again, with the speed and certainty of a missile, arms outstretched to prevent a rolling escape on her part. With his bigger mass and higher top speed, he can achieve a greater momentum than her any time of day – and knock her over like a bowling pin. Caitlin veers to the right seconds before they collide.

"You lied to me!" He spits the words with venom. "You're working with _him,_ aren't you?"

 _He knows._

He steps towards her, looking as though he'll beat the answer out of her. Some part of Caitlin has passed beyond terror into a sort of icy stillness. She fumbles for her phone, but in a too-fast movement, he has secured her wrist in an iron grip, squeezing so hard that it feels like her bones are crumbling to pieces. Caitlin bites back a scream as spots of fire dance along her wrist. Her phone clatters to the floor, a long crack visible across the front.

"Tell me _who_ he is, and I'll let you go." Tony tightens his grip on her wrist, and Caitlin exhales through clenched teeth, wishing she can modify the haughty curve of his nose with her fist.

"You can break my soul, take my life away, beat me, hurt me, _kill_ me." Caitlin channels her pain into muscle tension, and a scowl that wills Tony the very pain he is inflicting on her. "But for the love of God, don't _touch_ him."

Tony's expression closes and darkens. A crushing blow strikes her chest – Caitlin feels herself flying backwards, and then hears the crunch as her head bashes into the door. As if from a distance, she hears herself screaming.

For a moment, she lies in a crumpled heap, trying to remember how to breathe. It feels like several of her ribs have swapped places. She may have also bruised her brain. And then the warm wetness begins to spread through her hair with alarming speed. She can feel it soaking the shoulder of her dress, hears it dripping on the wood below. The smell of it twists her stomach.

"Barry . . ." Caitlin mumbles, as the flow of blood from her head sucks her consciousness away with it. Her eyes are closing. _"Barry."_

Caitlin releases her grip on consciousness. Everything dissolves like spiral galaxies through an unfocused telescope, everything except a smile that chases the pain away and two specks of emerald that sparkle with biting pleasant humor.


	10. Caitlin's Hero Arrives

**A/N:** One more chapter, and that will be the conclusion to this story!

* * *

An angry yell and the groan of metal giving way wakes her with a jerk. Caitlin peels her eyes open. Cold steel presses against her back and makes her shiver. There is a door down the hall, with a brass plaque proudly bearing the word 'PRINCIPAL' on it in capital letters. The dimly lit exit sign to her left provides enough ambient light for her to make out the row of lockers in front of her, bleached white by the dim lighting. She's in a school, from the looks of it.

Heart rattling, and her breathing labored, Caitlin sits up and immediately wishes she hadn't moved. Hot pain drives through her head like a spike, followed by a racking wave of nausea. If there is anything in her stomach, she would have thrown it up. A lank clump of hair falls into her face; Caitlin tries to brush it aside, only to find that it is clumped together, gummy with dried blood. Her hand comes away stained with burgundy poison, and Caitlin whimpers. Blood forms a crusty collar on her neck, and it's smeared down her dress and skirt. Her bag and phone are missing – all she has is the tiny canister of pepper spray she's tucked away under her bra strap.

Veins surging with adrenaline, Caitlin staggers to her feet. A wave of dizziness washes over her, and she catches at the wall to steady herself. I will not faint, she tells herself grimly. Then she hears the footsteps.

Someone is coming down the hallway. Caitlin presses up against the wall, her pulse fluttering in her throat.

It's Tony. He shoots her a look of white rage, looking like a thundercloud. To stifle the scream clawing at her insides, Caitlin bites down on her tongue – hard. The raw pain is making her woozy. Nothing keeps her more awake and alert like pain. For all she knows, Cisco and Dr. Wells think that she's on a very, _very_ long coffee run, and Barry is probably hovering around Iris. The stars only know what Tony will do to her before someone realizes she is missing.

He looks at her with glittering malice. "You're no reporter."

" _Really."_ Caitlin tries to stall for time, unable to stop sarcasm from suffusing her tone. "What gave it away?"

He spits the words out as though they are poison. "I _saw_ you. With him."

"Saw me with _who?"_ Caitlin's smile is as bland as buttered toast.

With a cry of pure, unbridled rage, Tony moves, blindingly fast like a striking snake. A sharp crack resounds through her head. He's shoved her against the wall so hard that the back of her skull strikes the wood paneling. If she didn't have a concussion before, she'll definitely have one now. His face is inches from hers, eyes huge and black. " _The streak._ You're working with _him_ , aren't you?"

Caitlin's silence is answer enough.

"Tell me who he is, and I'll let you go. If you don't . . ." Tony's threat isn't an idle one - he slams his fist into the wall, tearing a hole through the concrete. "I'll kill you."

Caitlin swallows. "I don't know who he is."

"Liar!" With a snarl, Tony establishes a death grip around her neck, cutting off her circulation. "You helped him after I pounded him into the ground! If it wasn't for you, he'd be ten feet under right about now!"

"I'll _never_ let you hurt him again," At this point, she is tired of playing games. She's had to watch as Barry gets hurt by this sadist, over and _over_ again. He's going to kill her, but if there's any consolation, it's that Barry has no clue where she is. Rage rises up in her like a black wave. "He won't come. So do your worst, Tony Woodward."

He looks at her as though she's a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. "You love him."

 _"What?"_

Rivulets of red stream down her beck and dot the floor. She'd thought bleeding is supposed to be warm, at least as warm as the stinky arm wrapped around her neck and the anger festering in her stomach. The shapes grow blurry, lose their definite edges. In less than two minutes asphyxiation will knock her out. If she wants to escape, she has to do it _now._

Closing her eyes, Caitlin fumbles for the can of pepper spray and squirts its contents right into Woodward's eyes. His curses echo around her as she elbows herself free and makes a wobbly break for freedom, which has never seemed so close and yet so far at the same time. Blurriness recedes from her eyes and brain as she gulps for air, scrambling on all fours like a wounded animal for the double doors at the end of the hall.

She feels the soft brush of wind tickling her hair, right before she hears the soft footfalls approach, rubber against tiles, as familiar to Caitlin from hours of listening to them on the treadmill.

At once, the dark hallway is less of a menace.

Barry is on his knees, propping up her back with sturdy hands and pushes back the mussed hair from her forehead. His lips are tightly pressed together, frown parentheses bracketing his mouth. He looks absolutely terrifying. Caitlin blinks. They're a good kilometer away from Tony, who wails and scrubs at his streaming eyes with all his might.

"Hi." Her voice is a lot softer than she'd like it to be.

Is there any word more asinine, more ridiculous to try and start a conversation with? Now that Barry's here, she lets herself dissolve into a bloody puddle in his arms. Caitlin huddles against Barry and focuses on breathing through the scorching pain, which seems to have returned full force now that all the fight – and the adrenaline – has left her. Her head throbs and she struggles for each breath.

"What did he _do?"_ There's something almost venomous about the way Barry growls, and honestly, he can't help it.

Something dark and dangerous stirs in the pit of his stomach. He grinds his teeth together, trying to speak through the anger that blooms in his chest like a poisonous flower. Almost as if on its own accord, his hand lifts and cards through tangled curls. Caitlin hardly registers the hiss that leaves his clenched teeth when Barry's hand comes away wet and sticky, covered with burgundy poison. Caitlin flinches when he probes at a tender spot, but she doesn't pull away.

"He _hurt_ you." Barry says, as if from a distance, and later, he would think back on this and feel the ice in his veins as he remembered how his voice had sounded, laced with iron and murder. "I'm going to –"

"Shhh," Caitlin mouths. He doesn't need to punish anyone. Being here is enough.

Though she's wrapped in a warm embrace, in a building with a man who is mad enough to kill her, she feels safer than she has for a long time. She shuts her eyes and collapses forward into blackness.


	11. Caitlin ( Sort Of ) Confesses

**A/N:** Okay, so this is the officially the last chapter of Taken! It has been a **BLAST** writing this story, and I'll be posting a new SnowBarry story in a day or two. I would like to thank everyone who has so kindly reviewed - your comments are what have inspired me to continue writing, even through the hard times. Thank you for reading this story. I hope everyone's enjoyed it!

* * *

 _Just close your eyes_

 _The sun is going down_

 _You'll be alright_

 _No one can hurt you now_

 _Come morning light_

 _You and I'll be safe and sound._

Singing. A boy singing. Fat green fruits hang above her head; long pointed leaves cast shadows on her white dress, which spreads across the ground beneath her back. She's lying on a green field, dotted with daisies, watching sunlight fade into shadow, clasping Ronnie's hand. She never knew he could sing her cares away, open up space in her heart for sunshine and music and the clean green smell of chlorophyll.

But Ronnie's real voice is a rumble like the deep whir of air purifiers, not silky like the inside of an avocado, never capable of high hums and low timbers. She's heard Ronnie sing before, and if she's being honest, he sounds like a drowning donkey.

Caitlin opens her eyes, expecting to see him. She doesn't. It's _Barry._ She glimpses milk chocolate brown hair, cheekbones like razors and eyes that sparkle. His hand is warm in hers, and Caitlin clutches it like a lifeline, watching Barry's lips open and close as he sings.

"Caitlin?"

Caitlin. Not _Cait._

The music has stopped.

She blinks in her dream, opens her eyes and opens them again to take in reality. She's in the clean, sterile environment of a hospital room. It's dark except for a sidelight, and all is quiet. Her head and her chest ache, and Caitlin feels like she is swimming in a bathtub. Like the world isn't quite big enough. Her right arm smarts, and she notices the IV attached to it on the inside of her elbow. The air smells of something sharp and antiseptic.

Barry hovers anxiously by her bedside. He looks awful – haunted even – as though he hasn't slept for days. Unlike in the dream, his face is pinched and pale, with dark bruises ringing his eyes and he's dressed in a flannel shirt that looks like it might fall apart with one more wash cycle and a pair of jeans that look like they have seen better days. He wears sneakers without socks, and hastily backs up once he notices that she's awake.

"Hi." Caitlin croaks.

" _Caitlin."_ Barry sounds as though he's about to cry. "You're awake."

"How long was I out?" Caitlin whispers, feeling as though she's just gone ten rounds with a T-Rex.

"About two days." Barry hesitates, gnawing on his bottom lip. "You have some cracks in your skull, bruised ribs, a fractured wrist and bruises covering every inch of your skin."

 _Ouch._

"What happened?" The last thing she remembers is being cradled in a warm and gentle embrace, the smell of sugar and wind and summer nights tickling her nose. Her mind rebels against her as she tries to recall. "Tony. Oh _God,_ Tony, he's –"

"Locked up tight." Barry's voice is choked, hoarse. "Caitlin, do you have any idea how _dangerous_ that was? He could have killed you, I could have been too late –"

"I'll heal." Caitlin rattles off.

"He nearly _killed_ you. Do you have any idea what you looked like last night?" Barry has difficulty speaking, as if the words are too big for his mouth. "Blood all over your _clothes,_ blood in your _hair_ -" He breaks off with an exasperated groan. "Caitlin, you're not like me, you're _human._ You can't heal like I can."

Caitlin glares, struggling to sit up. The spinning in her head accelerates, and Barry hastily pushes her back down onto the pillows. "So it's okay for _you_ to get hurt all the time?"

"What?" Barry radiates confusion, his brows pulled together. "Caitlin, I –"

Caitlin fights to keep a grimace off her face. "Barry, I've had to patch you up _ten times_ since you became the Flash. And each time, your injuries get worse and _worse_. I just . . ."

"Caitlin, I'm _sorry."_ His eyes are luminous with contrition. "But you can't pull a stunt like that again. Dr. Wells is furious, and Cisco's been worried sick."

"I just . . . I don't want to see you _die."_ Caitlin closes her eyes on a sigh, and she winces when her ribs protest. It hurts. " _Tony_ could have killed you, _breaking the sound barrier_ could have killed you . . ."

This time, Barry looks surprised, disbelieving almost, as if he can't quite comprehend why anyone would be worried about him. It's enough to make her splinter on the inside. She attempts to pat him on the shoulder, but the IV pulling at her hands stops her.

"I know I should have called for backup, but I thought I could handle it. I _wanted_ to be able to stop him on my own, so that you wouldn't have to –" Caitlin's shoulders slump. She'd tried, but it seemed that her futile efforts had all but landed her in a hospital bed. "I wanted to protect you, instead of it being the other way around. I can't . . . I can't lose you like -"

Even after all these months, saying his name is hard. The words clog up her throat, refuse to leave her lips, but Barry's eyes soften and she knows that he _gets_ it.

"Caitlin, I –"

The nurse bustles in, brandishing a syringe. She leaves after injecting the medicine into the tubes. It doesn't take long for drowsiness to trickle through Caitlin's bloodstream. Barry stands by the bed, looking tired, and in spite of the fact that she wants him to stay, she knows she should try to persuade him to go home.

"You should get some rest." She hears herself saying. "Go home, Barry. You look exhausted."

"It's fine, I've been sleeping on the sofa." The lack for his own health never fails to irk Caitlin. "I didn't want to leave you."

 _Because it's my fault that Tony came after you._ Reading in between the lines lets Caitlin know all that Barry is reluctant to say. Her eyelids droop, but Caitlin stubbornly gestures to the covers by her left leg, indicating that he should sit. The conversation isn't over yet.

"Caitlin, you have an IV, I don't think -"

"Please?"

Barry sighs heavily, but a nanosecond later, perches gingerly on the very edge of her cot. Deep in thought, he reaches out and clasps her hand in his, idly running his thumb over her gauze-covered hand. His feels as if Caitlin is clutching the full blazing sun in her palm. So hot, and hers so cold. The friction and heat is divine.

"I wanted to help." Caitlin's eyelids droop; she fights the urge to fall asleep once more. "I wanted you to be _safe."_

"Caitlin, you _do_ help. More than you know. I mean, you patch me up all the time. Without you, I'd be –" A straight crease appears between his eyebrows _._ "- I don't know _what_ I'd do without you."

Caitlin tries to shake her head, but it feels too heavy, as though liquid steel has been injected into her veins. "I might not be able to reach you on time. What if you don't come back?"

She's grown fond of Barry. He's grown on her like roots in fertile soil. Whenever she's with him, it feels like something _warm_ , a slowly kindling fire prickles behind her ribs and spreads to her belly. She can't explain what it is, only that it's multicolored and alive and makes her hold her breath, wrap her arms around her chest and try to cage it in.

She isn't sure if she's in _love_ with Barry, or if this means that he's managed to melt down the layer of frost encasing her heart.

"I will _always_ come back." He reaches a hovering hand down, and Caitlin feels the brush of a calloused hand against her forehead as he brushes runaway strands of hair from her face. "Scout's honor."

She thinks she smiles. _That_ will do, for now. His words ease the anxiety that makes her heart take off like a frightened baby bird. "'Kay."

She isn't really there at all anymore. But she fights against the stupor weakly. There is just one more thing she wants to tell him.

As if from a distance, Caitlin hears herself say, "He said I was in _love_ with you."

"Who?"

"Tony." Caitlin struggles to pronounce his name correctly.

"He said that? No way, I don't think –"

"I think he might have been a _teensy_ bit correct."

And as the night closes over her, she feels the lightest pressure over her lips, along with the familiar and comforting smell of sugar and summer nights.


End file.
